32. JT #2
Because the second he turned off the water and I saw him reach for the towel, I turned and made a mad dash for the bedroom. My heart pounded almost as hard as my cock, but when there was nowhere for me to hide, I ran out of the bedroom door and down the hall.
I heard the sound of his feet on the marble floor behind me, but didn’t look back. It wasn’t until a large hand gripped my arm and drew me to a halt in the middle of his living room that I glanced over my shoulder.
West’s warm breath was harsh by my cheek, his wet chest pressed up against my back, and as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, my entire body trembled.
Jesus. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so turned on. But when West’s hard-on bumped up against my ass, I moaned.
Without a word, he walked me over to the wall of windows flanking the living room. Then he slid his hand down inside my briefs and curled his fingers around me.
“You little fucking tease,” he said, and flicked the tip of his tongue over my lobe.
A shiver raced up my spine as I leaned back into him, and never had I felt more aroused than I did right then.
“Feeling powerful right now, JT?”
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but it was good. I rolled my hips back against him, making him groan.
“Then how about this?” West moved his lips to the side of my neck and sucked. “We both get each other off. Right here, on top of the fucking world…”
In that moment I would’ve given him anything, handjob included.
Minutes later, I did.
And when West bit down into my shoulder and came all over me, I realized what it meant to feel truly powerful.
“YOU’RE STARING AGAIN…”
I glanced up from my laptop and looked at where West sat opposite me in a velvet accent chair.
He had his feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in hand, and while I’d been trying my hardest to ignore the heated stares he was aiming my way, the flush on my cheeks was becoming more and more of a distraction.
“You’re cute when you concentrate. It’s difficult not to.”
“Cute?” I scrunched up my nose and directed my attention back to the essay I’d been trying my hardest to write for the last hour or so. Not an easy feat when I was in the same room with a personality that dominated the space just by its presence.
“Yeah.” West laid the open book over his thigh. “Your brow furrows, and you get this little V right here.” He rubbed a finger between his eyebrows. “Very cute.”
I’d never been called cute before, and especially not by a guy, so I wasn’t quite sure how to take it. “Um, thanks?”
West chuckled. “It’s a compliment, JT. I like how you look, and I like looking at you. You’re so different from the people I know. I find myself watching you to see the way you’ll react to things.”
“You mean to see if I’m going to be all wide-eyed and impressed by your money and charm?”
“Don’t forget my amazing body.”
I picked up a Twizzler from the packet I’d been munching on and tossed it at West’s head, and when he caught it and bit down into the candy, I forced myself not to look at his mouth.
“Well, it doesn’t matter why you’re looking at me—you need to stop. I’m trying to work, and it’s distracting.”
“Because you want my amazing body.”
“Wessst.” I groaned and pretended to beat my head on the back of the couch. “I have to get this done. You promised if I stayed here this weekend you’d let me work.”
“I know, I know, but isn’t it break time yet?”
I let out a sigh, doing my best to feign annoyance. But my grin was a dead giveaway that I was more than happy to stop.
“Okay, you get”—I looked at the time on my phone—“fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes? We’ve been working for hours.”
“ I’ve been working for hours. You’ve ordered lunch, eaten lunch, listened to your headphones, and read some of that book—is that for class or fun?”
“It’s a book about how ‘a small group of Wall Street iconoclasts realize that the U.S. stock market has been rigged for the benefit of insiders.’ What do you think?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “It’s definitely not my idea of fun. But I’ve never been very good at math and numbers.”
“But JT, how are you going to count your millions if you aren’t good at numbers?”
“Millions?” I scoffed. “Yeah, somehow I don’t see myself counting wads of cash from whatever career I go into.”
“No? Why not? You got a thing against money?”
I laughed and looked around his lavish condo. “No. But I highly doubt my poetry or writing is going to land me a condo at the Towers.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Says the man reading books about Wall Street for fun .”
West shrugged, his smile a little sheepish. “It is fun for me.”
“Really?” I didn’t believe him for a second.
“Well, not Wall Street per se, but finances in general. That’s my major. I’m good with numbers, they make sense in my head, and if I want to take over the family business one day”—West winked at me—“then it doesn’t hurt to know how the world of money works.”
I wasn’t sure why, but the idea of West majoring in finances seemed so out of character for him. It was too low-key. West was so charismatic, and numbers were just…boring.
“You look horrified.”
I really needed to get better at keeping a neutral expression.“Not horrified, no. I was just… I guess I was just wondering if that was your idea or your parents’?”
“To run this place?” West looked over his shoulder at the magnificent view, then back to me.
“Do I look crazy? Running the Astoria would be a privilege. But it’s one I’m going to have to earn.
So while I’m positive my parents are happy with the direction I decided to take, they definitely didn’t force it on me. ”
“That makes sense. I just figured with your parents owning such a massive company that they might—”
“Force me into a job I don’t want? Nah. Some of the other guys are in that situation, but mine, they’re pretty cool. What about you? You into all that poetry and creative writing because of the librarian and the dean?”
My eyes widened at West’s recollection of what my dad did for a living, because as far I could remember, we’d only ever talked about it the first time we met.
“Ah, no. Like you, they pretty much gave me the option to pick my own path. And while I love writing poems and going to slam poetry nights in the city to watch others perform, I can’t imagine that’s going to work out for me.”
“Why? I’ve read some of your stuff. It’s great.”
“You’ve read three lines of my stuff.”
“And those three lines were great.”
“Yeah, but the odds of making anything off it? Not high. I’m too shy.
I much prefer to be the person behind the words than up there saying them.
So I don’t know where that leaves me, which I know freaks my mom out.
” I gave him a crooked smile. “But as long as it leads to some sort of career that will feed me, I think she’ll be just fine.
My dad, on the other hand, just wants me to be happy. ”
A slow smile curved West’s lips and when it reached his blue eyes, they all but sparkled.“And are you happy?”
My stomach flipped at the question. “I am. Are you?”
West picked up his book and nodded. “Yeah. I really am.” Then he pointed to my computer. “Break time’s over. Stop trying to distract me from my studies.”
I laughed and grabbed up my laptop, and as I reopened my essay and began to write, I heard West say, “I’d like to hear some of your poetry one day.”
My eyes flew to his, and he shrugged.
“Sorry.” His smile said he wasn’t sorry in the least. “I just wanted you to know.”